


which is to say

by stephcass (bisexualrey)



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, aka Artemis is dealing with shit and Dick is trying to be a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10315916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualrey/pseuds/stephcass
Summary: Artemis Crock hasn’t eaten in 48 hours, which is to say she hasn’t come home in two days, which is to say she’s found an oasis in one of the many condemned apartments Gotham has to offer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> tw: disorder eating (obviously), also mild reference to Artemis's shitty dad
> 
> i wrote this to cope with eating stuff tbh

Artemis Crock hasn’t eaten in 48 hours, which is to say she hasn’t come home in two days, which is to say she’s found an oasis in one of the many condemned apartments Gotham has to offer. Her legs are almost comfortable propped against a three-legged table, soft with rotting wood, and her eyes find some form of balance in the rituality of her city’s decaying sunset; all things she has maintained not as evidence of survival but maybe proof that she’s trying.

It reminds her of living with her dad, before her mom got out of prison and he was the best thing she had, which is to say she had nothing. She lost track of the amount of times she’d ditch the whole gig, ditch her role as the daughter of criminals, bound to turn up as nothing, bound to turn out like them. Whether it was places like this, or just the plain streets, there was sanctuary in anywhere but home.

And they fell into routine: he’d raise hell when she returned in a couple days, hungry and sleepless and a little emptier than before, but he wouldn’t go looking when she left again. Artemis figured that meant a lot, taught her anger didn’t stem from love: a lesson they don’t really show at the movies.

Her nothing ties indirectly with her anger, which is to say she has yet to learn the relationship but knows it’s there. And, upon the inevitable appearance of none other than everyone’s favorite winged acrobat, she wonders if everybody else knows too. Wonders if it’s obvious.

Nightwing waits for her to acknowledge him, takes ten to fifteen seconds to get that she’s not going to, and promptly sits next to her on the floor, criss-cross-apple-sauce like they’re children. He smells like some ungodly mix of sweat and ultra-masculine aftershave, but she knows she smells worse.

“How’s it going?”

No response.

“It’s been a couple days.”

No response, take II.

“Have you eaten?”

Artemis looks down dryly, not out of shame or embarrassment but because she’s something close to exhausted. “What’s it to you?”

“Not much. I bought a burger, though. If you want half of it.” He’s pleading with her; she hates him for it.

“I’m good.”

“Artemis--”

“I’m _good_ , Dick.”

He tilts his head back, but moves in as if nonchalant, “suit yourself.”

She watches as he proceeds to unwrap brown paper and stuff it in his mouth, slow and loud like he’s not sure how he’s supposed to be eating, staged. She gets that, but in the opposite kind of way. And she knows he’s just doing this to tempt her into stealing the last bites, to admit she’s starving, to come home maybe, but the grease on his breath is doing nothing but provoking a suppression of appetite.

“So…”

Artemis sighs, leans off her chair and glares at him, “you have something to say?”

Aggression. Fine, Nightwing knows how to match that--with all cards flat against the table, “I just wanted to know when you were coming home.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Dude, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Nightwing grimaces, it’s hard to hear the apathy in her voice, “your mom is worried sick.”

“So?” So, they haven’t really gotten along lately. So Artemis doesn’t know how to get along, with anyone.

“So,” he wraps an arm around her shoulder, she weakly pushes it off, “I figured you’d at least like some company. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes, blue and soft, which gets her pissed again. Maybe jealous. Maybe angry that he gets to stay soft through everything, that his everything kept him soft--which is to say, not that he hasn’t gone through shit but he maintained himself through it. Which is to say, she didn’t.

“I don’t need you as my savior,” she spits, venomous but too tired to be threatening.

He reasons with the air, turns to her again, “okay. I’ll bite. What do you need?”

“Nothing. I don’t need anything.”

“Bull shit. You haven’t trained in what, weeks? Don’t you at least want that release, go back to your thrilling lifestyle?” His humor comes off flat.

“I’ll have you know I caught three guys teaming up on some poor girl yesterday.”

“And you actually caught them?”

Artemis is silent. It says enough.

“Come on, let’s get some food in you. Anything you’d like, then we can go patrolling,” he bites his lower lip, once again in perfect imitation of a child, “Gotham’s criminals miss you. The team, we miss you.”

‘I don’t miss you,’ she wants to say. It would be a lie.

She scowls, but pushes herself off the ground, and stumbles. When he catches her by the bicep, she scowls some more even though she needs the support. He lets go slowly, sustaining eye contact like the professional spotter he is.

“Phở?” He swings off the rafters, _so_ extra, and she follows behind on foot.

“You’re paying, rich boy.”

“Thought you didn’t want to be a charity case--” He pretends to wince when she punches him in the shoulder. She rolls her eyes, almost calls him patronizing. Almost.

Artemis doesn’t know how much she’s going to eat, but figures it’s a start. Figures maybe today can be a little better than yesterday, even if tomorrow is a little worse; which is to say, at least this way, there will be a tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone has noticed my pattern of putting Artemis in angsty situations whenever i'm feeling down, but my girl has a lot of shit to deal with that the show glosses over (bc, you know, it's aimed for kids)
> 
> also i've been writing mostly slam poems lately so i'm struggling with prose.


End file.
